Stained Glass
by the-thirteenth-era
Summary: Getting settled on a strange new planet isn't easy for anyone, but it's especially hard with the constant threat of the past sneaking up on you.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I wish I owned it, but better yet, I wish Riddick were real so he could be my pillow...among other things.

**Stained Glass**

-One-

The room was not especially big, in fact it was the smallest of the three bedrooms in the house. It could have been a large walk-in closet, save for the fact that there was a neatly made up twin bed with a midnight blue coverlet and matching pillows pushed into one corner. There was also a small dark table next to the bed housing a lamp and an older model chrono, and a dresser pushed against the space between the door to the hall and the door to the even smaller closet. Both the table and the dresser appeared to be made of ebony, as was every other wooden object in the house, and there was a hand woven rug gracing the grey tiled floor-space, little as there was.

To anyone else the room would have seemed extremely cramped and not in any way comfortable, but in Jack's eyes it looked as close to heaven as she had ever seen in her life. There was even a window, a small one to be sure, but a window none-the-less and, as if it were an added bonus, it looked out over the shallow green waters of the river that drifted through New Mecca.

"I can stay in here?" she asked, almost completely in awe as she brushed her fingers over the hem of one of the pillow cases. Blue was one of her favorite colors. "This'd be my room?"

"Of course, my child," Imam responded from the doorway, the confused frown on his face was evident in his tone, but she didn't wish to elaborate her wonderment over the room. It would only bring back unwanted memories and, as much as she liked him, she knew he'd never understand that part of her past.

"My own room," Jack whispered, smiling slightly as she looked up. "Thanks, Imam."

"I would have offered you the other one, but I'm afraid Mister Riddick takes up more space than you do," he responded with a returning smile, half amused and half something that she couldn't identify, not that it mattered very much to her. She could care less if Riddick got the biggest room in the house when, now, for the first time in all her fourteen years of existence, she had an actual place that could be called her own. That's when the full significance of his statement hit her; she turned fully around to face him, eyes going wide.

"He's coming back?" she cried, grinning widely at the thought.

"There was a message this morning, before we left the hotel," Imam responded with a nod, and another half smile. "He will return in a week or two, although he did not mention for how long."

"He's coming back!" Jack exclaimed, balancing her weight first on one foot and then the other.

She felt like jumping around or something, but was a bit self-conscious of anyone watching and so limited herself to the mere madness of hopping slightly from one foot to the other. It generated a full smile on Imam's weathered face, making him look like somebody's grandfather, the thought of which made her pause to wonder exactly how old he truly was. She'd never actually speak up and ask the question, of course, but if she had to guess she'd say he was maybe late forties or early fifties.

"If you'll excuse me, Jacquelyn, I will go make dinner," he said after a moment, breaking through her contemplation. "Perhaps you should unpack."

Imam nodded towards the small black duffel bag containing all of her current worldly possessions, which wasn't very much, before taking his leave. She moved to pick up the bag, her own smile fading. Silently, she carried it over towards the bed, setting it down on the bedspread and unzipping the top. Inside were three sets of dull colored shirts and pants, a handful of socks and underwear, as well as a bra that was, as far as she could see, never going to be of any use.

It wasn't that she was completely flat chested, for she had just enough there that required wrapping to keep up her previous guise as a boy, but that was it and only it. Jack didn't particularly mind, after all, she'd found out quickly enough that having breasts and hair and girl clothes attracted attention of an unwanted sort.

Sighing and pushing that momentary reverie out of her head, she transferred her clothing into the dresser only to discover that the small collection barely filled a single drawer. She stared at it, biting her lip and blinking back tears, but the fact of everything still came barreling through. Those clothes were more than she'd ever actually had in the past, more than she'd actually been allowed in the past, and the thought of it made her throat tighten painfully.

Before a single tear could fall, she slammed the drawer shut and spun towards the still open door, dashing out and down the hall to the small bathroom Imam had pointed out to her earlier. Once inside she turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face then rubbing at her skin until it simply looked like she'd just scrubbed herself clean.

Then she went back out into the hall, heading towards the stairs so she could help out with dinner.

* * *

The kitchen chairs were wooden and sat slightly uneven on the stone tiles. Jack shifted in her seat, wincing slightly as one leg of the chair hit the floor with a soft tap. She stared at her plate and the collection of food that sat upon it.

There was chicken with some kind of spice on it and next to it a type of vegetable she'd never seen before. Actually vegetables really hadn't been a big part of her diet in previous times, but even so, she was quite certain that they weren't supposed to be purple. Along with all this was some kind of pudding like substance with bread chunks and little green things in it.

The contents of the food were of no interest to her, as it both smelled and tasted more than edible. What bothered Jack was how much there was of it, covering nearly the entire plate. It was more than she'd ever seen in a meal before and almost ten times as much as she had expected to see. Maybe it was having lived off emergency rations and the generosity of soup kitchens for the majority of the past three years.

A sound in the kitchen made her look up, turning her head to look over her shoulder to make sure that Imam wasn't watching her. She didn't want him to think that she didn't like his cooking, but his back was turned towards her. Earlier he had told her that she needn't help him in making dinner, that he liked cooking because it took his mind off other things.

Jack sighed and turned back towards her plate, hesitantly spearing one of the violet hued vegetables with her fork. That's when her brain registered a difference in scenery in the view out of the corner of her eye.

A second ago the front hall had been empty, but when she looked up again her eyes went wide and a grin spread it's way across her face. She quickly scrambled out of her chair, dashing forward only collided with Riddick's chest, as was intended. She hugged him round the middle before any protest could be made.

His reaction was to tense, and a growl rumbled through him, which to her ears was a thousand times louder due to the proximity. She released him from her hug, dashing back to her chair just as quickly as she had left it.

She wasn't sure if she had annoyed him, or if he was already annoyed to begin with, either way it deflated the little bubble of happiness that had appeared in her chest upon seeing him there. Picking up her fork, she returned to her food, glancing up only briefly as Riddick sat down in the chair across from her. With his goggles on it was kind of hard to tell exactly where he was looking, but even so, Jack could feel his stare, sinking her spirits even lower.

She had annoyed him, she just knew it.

* * *

Review please, please, please!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : If I did own Riddick, do you think I'd be telling you? I don't need people mobbing my house.

**BatPhace** – Nice name, very cool. Here's another chapter for you!

**Njrd – **Yay, author alerted-ness is hyper Here's another chapter!

**Buecha** – Yep,yep, here's some more.

**Ren3017** – Okie dokie, here's another chapter!

**Bebe** – Yay, it's interesting! dances

**Stained Glass**

-Two-

Jack flashed her teeth at the mirror, looking for any food stuck between her teeth while in one hand she held a toothbrush. The bristles were smeared with some kind of blue gel toothpaste that was, according to the label, supposed to taste like bubblegum. Seven and a half consecutive uses had rendered that particular advertisement a complete lie. She brushed with it anyways, for while the taste reminded her of the way a hospital smelled, the stuff did work to get her teeth cleaned and she was not about to walk around school with bad breath.

It was bad enough at school already without adding dental hygiene to the list of things the other kids hated her for. Eventually things would numb out and the other students would forget she existed like they had at her old school.

She hadn't told Imam about the kids at school, mainly because she didn't want him to worry or say anything to the principal. Jack believed it was something she had to deal with on her own.

For the past three days she'd been telling herself over and over that her hair would grow out again, that it didn't matter how few clothes she had to wear so long as she actually had something to wear. Imam wasn't rich and she refused to ask him for more than what he'd already volunteered to give. She could put up with the ridicule so long as she had a place that was actually welcoming to come back to.

Putting her toothbrush back once she was done, Jack hurriedly washed her face and left the bathroom.

Out in the hall she saw the door to the room Riddick slept in open. He stepped out, goggles in place over his eyes to keep out the light. He looked at her as she walked past towards the stairs and she smiled, pausing to say something only to have him turn away, heading towards where she had just come from. Swallowing the sudden lump that appeared in her throat, she made her way downstairs, managing to throw on another smile for Imam as he looked up from the kitchen.

She picked up her schoolbooks from where she'd left them on the counter the previous night and hurriedly shoved them in her book bag. For some reason she didn't want to be there when Riddick came downstairs, but just as she was zipping the bag back up again he appeared, dressed in the usual black. He didn't say anything in greeting towards either of them, but walked past the breakfast table and out the front door. It fell shut behind him and Jack felt a strange icy fear pour through her veins.

She stood up, bag in hand as she stared at the door wondering, just like she did everyday, if he'd be coming back.

"I'm going now, Imam. I'll see you later," Jack said, shouldering her pack.

"Have a good day, Jacquelyn," he replied from the kitchen where she could hear the sounds of him washing the dishes from that morning's breakfast in the sink. She paused for a moment at the door, frowning to herself and at the edge of an idea that was suddenly tugging at her mind.

Shrugging it away for the moment, she opened the door and headed off to school.

* * *

Something had been gnawing on Jack's neurons for the majority of the day, making it so that she couldn't concentrate on anything and now, as she was sitting there with her math worksheet in front of her, the idea came.

"I can cook," Jack volunteered the information, tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, her homework momentarily forgotten.

"Can you?" Imam asked, looking up from the living room where he'd been examining one of the news channels on the vid screen.

"Yeah," she responded with a little more enthusiasm. "I used to cook back when, um, well, back before I ran away."

Her voice dropped slightly around the words in the last part, another part of her brain presenting the images of what happened each and every time she used to cook. Rationality spoke up and claimed that neither of the people she was living with now would be as hard please food-wise.

"Well, it would certainly be nice," Imam commented with an encouraging smile. "Did you want to cook tonight or perhaps tomorrow?"

"I'll cook tonight!" Jack cried, grinning. Now she felt like fidgeting in her chair, but instead just increased the pace at which she was tapping the pencil against the side of the table. She started to say something else, but was interrupted by the front door opening, to which she had to respond. She turned her smile towards Riddick as he came walking up the hall, both happy that he hadn't disappeared and brimming with glee at her own idea. He stopped in the doorway, face expressionless as he stared at her, apparently not amused by her grin. She only let her smile falter a little bit before the idea in her head took over and did the talking for her. "Can you cook?"

"Cook?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. There was no inflection of tone in his rough voice other than the question mark at the end.

"Yeah," she replied, smile fading somewhat. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't that good of an idea after all. Even still, she was going to throw it out in the open, just to see if it would turn out okay. "I can cook, and Imam said if I wanted to I could cook tonight. If you could cook, then we could all take turns cooking."

Jack looked down at her paper as soon as she was finished speaking, pretending to return to her homework assignment. It felt like an eternity before any other sound graced the room, when it did she felt her chest ache slightly. Riddick's footsteps went past the table and up the stairs. She bit her lip, and tried in vain to concentrate on her math work again instead of the new mantra that was repeating over and over in her head.

After a moment, she heard Imam stand and walk over, robes rustling.

"It was a good idea, Jacquelyn," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We could still take turns cooking if you wish."

Silently she nodded, raising her head to give him a grateful smile. He nodded towards her, more for reassurance of himself than for her benefit she speculated, then walked away, disappearing into the downstairs hall.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer : I don't own Riddick, which makes me kind of depressed...

Note : I feel bad, 'cause this chapters kind of short.

njrd - This story will more than likely lead nowhere good. I was playing 'Escape from Butcher Bay' the other day and came across one of the cig packs that, if collected, give you game art. The cig pack said 'everyone you know will someday die' and thus my day went plunging into a depressive state from which this story might be affected.

bebe - Continue to review, it makes me happy. Like 'maybe I'll make cookies to munch while I write'on kind of happy.

Mav1 - Yay, my story is grammatically correct! dances Glad you like it!

**Stained Glass**

-Three-

Jack watched, out of the corner of her eye or from the pretense of looking at something else on the table, to see what Riddick's reaction was. It had been almost a week before she actually got up the nerve to implement her idea concerning the food and tonight was the first night she'd cooked. She had worked rather hard at it and they'd just been sitting down when he had come walking in from whatever it was that he did during the day.

It was something she wondered about, what he got up to, but she wasn't about to ask out loud. If he didn't volunteer the information then she wasn't going to pry, no matter how curious she became. Deep down she was afraid that if she pestered him too much then he would leave and never come back. She didn't want that to happen, she didn't want him to hate her like everyone else in her past.

Riddick was eating like he usually ate and he usually ate a lot, though he never went for second helpings of the food. It was a trait the both of them shared in common, though more than likely for different reasons. Jack knew her reason and she wasn't about to divulge it with anyone else at the present moment. All she wanted to know was whether or not he liked it, because that would be the best thing in the universe in her book.

But he stood up when he was finished, just like he always did, and headed for the stairs.

She looked down at her plate, taking in a deep breath as she tried to tell herself that it didn't really matter. At least he hadn't shouted, or thrown something, or worse. Inner monologue didn't help much, as the feeling in the pit of her stomach just made her feel slightly sick.

* * *

Some three weeks later, Jack ran as fast as her legs could carry her towards Imam's sandstone house, the soles of her shoes slapping against the pavement with every step. She reached the front door and practically flew inside, smiling as she slammed shut it behind her. Usually, if a door was that loud she would have winced, but not this day. 

"Imam?" she called, dashing into the kitchen and then into the living room to find the robed cleric sitting in one of the armchairs, a book in hand. "Imam, guess what!"

"What is it, Jacquelyn?" he asked, looking slightly alarmed at how excited she appeared to be.

"I got my report card!" Jack replied gleefully, hopping from one foot to the other, the paper in question squashed in one hand. "And it's a good one too, I got-"

She stopped speaking, hearing the front door open again, signaling Riddick's return to the house. Instantly, she forgot about spouting off her grades for Imam, attention drawn away. Spinning on her heel, she dashed back towards the kitchen asRiddick entered the short hallway that connected the two rooms.

"I got my report card!"

He stopped, turning his head to look at over at her, his current destination foiled by her gleeful shout.She didn't notice the frown that began formingon his face, her focus beingon unfolding the paper in her hands.

"I've got an 'A' in History, and English, and Computers, and a 'B' in Math and Science, but-"

Jack ceased talking, having finally looked up to see thelook on Riddick's face.He stood there in the hall, justfive feet away from the stairs ina part of the room where the light didn't quite seem to chase away the shadows.His head was tilted slightly and she could see the reflection of her own face in the lenses of her goggles.

She realized then, just how stupid she must have sounded, rattling off her grades like some kind of prep. Silently, she folded up the paper again, then swung her backpack off her shoulder.

"I, uh, I've got homework."

With that excuse, she ran pastRiddick andup the stairs just as fast as she had run coming home, retreating into her room before anyone who wanted to say something could say anything at all.

* * *

Review, it'll keep the flying monkeys away. Unless you like flying monkeys... 


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